The Centurion's Wife (33 page)

CHAPTER

THIRTY-SIX

Pilate’s Palace, Jerusalem

LEAH SAT UP ON HER PALLET just as the rising sun touched the window in the maidservants’ chamber. A new thankfulness filled her being. No one had said so directly, but she was sure today was to be her
huppah,
the day her bridegroom claimed his bride.

She lay back and gazed at the ceiling, now bejeweled with slivers of sunlight. In her mind’s eye she was seeing her bridal garments. The ones she and Abigail and Hannah had selected. Procula had insisted on buying them for her as her farewell gift. Her mistress had seemed reluctant to speak with Leah since her declaration that she was a follower of Jesus. But Leah found herself praying once more that Procula’s nights would become calm and her spirit healed.

Then her thoughts turned to Alban.

He had been regretful he could not prepare the kind of wedding celebration he wanted her to have. She had tried to convince him that it did not matter. That a simple celebration would be exactly right.

It was true she would not have the traditional parade with Judaean music and a flower-strewn pathway. She would not be carried on a litter with friends dancing before her. There would be no decorated bridal chamber in the center of the courtyard. Nor would there be a bountiful feast for friends to enjoy. But what did it matter? They were blessed to have this day at all.

The only thing that brought a fleeting sorrow to her heart was the absence of her family. If only her mother, her sister . . . But she resolved to not let that spoil her joy. The community of worshipers was her family now. And she would soon have Alban. Alban and Jacob.

She rose and dressed and prepared for the day, reflecting that this probably would be the last time she would waken in this room. Would lift herself from this pallet and roll it up and place it against the wall. She was not a slave, not even a servant. She would very soon be the wife of a centurion.

A little shiver went through her body. Alban was indeed a centurion, at least for this moment. What the future held, who could say? Pilate still had not given his mandate. Alban had been summoned to appear before the tribunal two days hence. They would not know the prelate’s verdict until then.

Leah pushed the fears aside. She would not allow such uncertainties to intrude upon her happiness. She had much to do if this indeed was the day she would meet Alban at the courtyard of the followers. Theirs would be a simple celebration. Thanks to her newfound friends, however, they would have a festive meal, with singing and perhaps dancing to follow in the square. Abigail’s small room had been cleared for their private use. The girl had removed her personal items and placed them in Hannah’s quarters. It was enough.

No, Leah decided. It was much more than enough. It was wonderful.

She left to serve Procula’s breakfast one more time.Tucked under her arm was her urn of nard. She would present it to her dear friend, with the prayer that it would bring the woman hope.

Leah arrived at the believers’ gathering place with a small bundle containing all her possessions. She had carefully folded the robe Alban had given her, once more caressing its soft folds. Nedra had come to the palace that morning and asked for her. With a little smile, the woman had told her she was needed at the courtyard, that she “should be prepared.”

The two women were met at the entrance by two overjoyed friends.

“You are here. You are here!” Abigail and Hannah called as one. “Come, come. We will help you prepare.”

With one on each side, Leah was led into Hannah’s crowded quarters. The girls had pushed the cot tight against the wall and placed Abigail’s rolled pallet on top of it. Everything they owned was stacked upon the bed to make room for the preparations.

“We told everyone they must stay away until the shofar is sounded. Enoch will blow it. He is posted at the doorway. When he sees the centurion, he will sound the horn.”

“Martha is making some of Alban’s favorite dishes,” Abigail told her. “She has the kitchen workers fairly running with her instructions.” Abigail ushered Leah into the small room, leaning upon her stick. “Your gown and shawl are right here. And your veil.”

“It is so beautiful, Leah, it suits you!” Hannah exclaimed. “How do you wish to do your hair? I will lend you my silver comb. My father gave it to me.”

Abigail eased herself down to the floor. “Here. Let me wipe the dust from your sandals.”

And the fussing continued. Leah had never felt so cared for and loved. Like family.

She could have dressed herself much more quickly on her own, but both girls were intent on helping her. They stumbled over one another in the room’s narrow confines, but no one minded. Finally the soft cotton robe was settled into place, the sash firmly tied, and the freshened sandals back on her feet.

Her hair was arranged and rearranged. Leah felt no need for the comb, but she did not want to disappoint Hannah, so she accepted it and exclaimed over its delicacy. They were just positioning her veil when the sound of the trumpet pealed through the air.

“He’s here. He’s here. Your bridegroom has come!”

The young women, already excited before, were now nearly feverish. Hannah’s hands trembled with her voice. “Oh . . . the flowers in your hair are slipping. Let me fix them.”

Abigail warned, “Don’t tangle them in the veil.”

“The comb is caught!”

Leah wondered if the two would undo all the work that they had done. “May I?” she asked. But when she reached up, she discovered her fingers were trembling as well.

Another long blast from the trumpet, then Leah heard excited shouts and loud cheers. She took a deep breath and fastened the veil as securely as her shaking fingers would allow.

When Leah entered the courtyard, she was astonished to see the transformation. A bench was pulled forward and centered in the space. Wild flowers and branches were arranged as a latticework shelter over the bench. Leah was ushered immediately to a seat there beside Alban. He looked at her for a long time, finally reaching for her hand as a cheer went up from the crowd.

The bearded man with strikingly intense eyes who had spoken to them from the upstairs window on the day of Pentecost now stepped forward. Peter was dressed in a dark robe, with a camel’s hair outer garment tied upon one shoulder and hanging down both front and back. He lifted both hands toward the heavens, and every voice went silent.

“Our God, the almighty Lord of heaven and earth,” he began in a clear, authoritative voice, “bless these two here before you with your grace. Grace to keep one another in sickness and in health. Grace to learn together to serve as you would have them serve. Grace to give them strength for daily toil and duty. Grace to keep them in the hour of temptation or weakness. Grace that will enable them to give and love and labor. Make them fruitful. Bless them with your presence. Wrap them in your peace. And multiply their love—for you, for others, for one another. In the name of our blessed Lord and Savior, Jesus of Nazareth. Amen.”

The echoing amens resounded around Leah and Alban, and they looked at one another, Alban’s deep emotion evident in his face.

Leah had never heard any blessing so touching or majestic. Soon, one after another, the community of believers stepped forward with greetings and Scripture recitations and advice for a long and prosperous marriage. There was singing and dancing and the sharing of goblets of wine. Children threw flowers and women placed kisses while men slapped Alban good-naturedly on the back or greeted him with the customary kiss or a formal bow. It was hard for Leah to take it all in.

She noticed Linux had arrived, but hung back silently against the coolness of the far wall. His eyes rested upon Abigail as she stood at the edge of the communal dancers, laughing and singing as the others whirled their way around the courtyard. Leah was concerned for her friend, but she pushed those thoughts aside and turned once more to look at Alban. His ready smile and strong yet gentle hand assured her that it was not all a dream.

Jacob had already found new friends and entered into their noisy gaiety. The sun climbed overhead, and the crowded courtyard became nearly stifling. But the noise and activity swelled further. Everyone was having a wonderful time. Leah began to feel faint with the excitement and headiness of it all. And the wedding feast was still to come.

A loud clanging of metal pots and thumping of sticks and clattering of simple music makers drew the crowd toward the bench where the bridal couple sat. The dancers and shouters and noisemakers attempted to outdo each other with their laughing and cheering.

Jacob danced across Leah’s vision in the middle of some whirling activity. Then he wheeled back and pressed close to Alban, shouting his joy and contentment as he wove his way in and out.

Suddenly there was a shout of another kind, piercing through the merrymaking. Leah knew Abigail’s voice. She was crying out, “Jacob! Jacob!”

All eyes turned toward the sound.

Abigail
. What had Jacob done? Had her friend been hurt again? Leah half rose from her seat. She felt Alban’s hand on her arm. Then he too was standing to see what was happening.

Jacob had spun around at the sound of his name and was standing as still as a stone, staring at Abigail, who was maybe thirty paces away. Like him, she now had fallen absolutely still.

“Abigail?” His voice sounded small in the quiet that had fallen over the group.

And then the two were moving toward each other, arms outstretched, calling each other’s name over and over again.

Leah could see the tears running down Abigail’s face, but she could not understand their cause. What had happened?

“Jacob,” Abigail was now saying, running a hand over his face, patting his shoulder, holding him close. “I thought you were dead.”

Jacob gasped through his own tears. “They told me all the family was dead!”

She grabbed him close and wept some more. “I am the only one. Our parents are gone.”

Alban held Leah’s hands tightly in his own and let her weep. And soon Abigail and Jacob had joined them, and they all wept, then laughed, together.

The shouting and celebration resumed as the story of the wonderful reunion spread through the crowd. “I can’t believe it. I simply can’t believe it,” Leah said over and over as she wiped her tears.

When the commotion had died down, Leah found herself closer to Alban on the bench. Although careful not to seem improper on this day, she did not move away. She felt elated and drained all at once. How could so much be happening on the very same day as their wedding celebration?
Alban’s Jacob, a young brother of Abigail
. It seemed like another miracle.
We will need to make new family arrangements
, Leah was thinking quickly
. Will we gain one more—or will we now lose them both
?

And just as those thoughts flitted through her mind, the loud banging and chanting started again. She questioningly turned to Alban with the crowd weaving their joyful dance around them. He leaned over to whisper in her ear, “I think they are trying to tell us we are to enter the bridal chamber now.”

Leah’s heart began to pound, and her cheeks felt even warmer.

“Will you show me the way?” he asked.

She took Alban’s hand and drew him through the cheering crowd, up the steps and through the flower-decorated doorway into Abigail’s small room. Her cot had been removed. A petal-strewn pallet lay on the floor, covered with a soft sheepskin. Palm branches crisscrossed the single window to block some of the light and the noise of the celebration that continued on in the square.

Alban pulled her close and looked deeply into her eyes.

“I love you, Leah,” he whispered. “I wish with all my heart I could give you the world. But I do not know what the future holds. What
our
future holds. I—”

“Shaa,” Leah whispered back as she reached up to place a finger on his lips. “We will not talk about it now. We will not even think of it. We will think instead on Peter’s prayer. Our lives belong to God now. He will give his grace. He does answer Peter’s prayers, you know.”

He released her to free his hands, one lifting her shawl and the other going to the loop that held her veil.

“Now?” he asked.

Leah nodded.

With a deftness that defied the strength and size of his fingers, her husband slipped the loop and let the veil fall.

He seemed transfixed. Studying her face. Running a hand along her cheek, then tracing the curve of her lips with one fingertip.

“You are beautiful,” he whispered hoarsely. “Beautiful. And you are mine.”

Leah closed her eyes and leaned against his chest. She could feel his heart beating against hers. She savored his words. Let the tomorrows bring what they would. She had today. She had her centurion.

A N
OTE FROM THE
P
UBLISHER

The authors discovered a great deal of fascinating historical information as they began their research for this novel. Davis Bunn spent nearly two weeks in Israel, touring the country with a rabbi friend who provided invaluable insight and understanding of the setting, politics, and culture of the first century.

For additional background materials, please visit
www.the
centurionswife.com
. Some topics covered on this site include possible reasons for the two gospel accounts of the healing of the centurion’s servant, the significance of the cup and the bread in communion, the connections between Passover and Pentecost, and an explanation of the complex Jerusalem power structure.

Questions for group discussion or individual study also can be found at this site.